


Where All My Journeys End

by Melodious329



Category: Angel: the Series RPF, CW Network RPF, Kane (Band), Leverage RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-28
Updated: 2011-10-28
Packaged: 2017-10-25 00:43:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/269766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melodious329/pseuds/Melodious329
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christian was chosen as the King’s concubine when he was 15, but it was a duty he never fulfilled.  He spent two years locked away in the castle waiting and preparing only for his King to be killed and himself handed over to the conqueror.</p><p>King Steven is trying to live up to the shadow of his father’s reign.  After winning the war against King David, he’s given David’s concubine as a gift.  Christian is different, not the obedient bed partner to which King Steven is accustomed.  But with his nobles upset over his policies, who is it that King Steven really needs to discipline?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where All My Journeys End

King Steven stares out the open window in the great hall of his castle, glad to be back in his home after his long campaign. There is only a hint of a breeze that barely ruffles the waves of his chin length blonde hair. He’s dressed in the traditional attire, a leather vest over a fitted blue long-sleeved shirt cinched at the waist by his sword belt, leather boots that laced up the calf of his leather pants, and a long leather coat over it all. The leather was intricately worked with silver thread, and so supple that it moves with him like a second skin as he turns around.

Turning away from the sight of refugees pouring inside the Castle’s bailey, he looks over the faces of the men around him, all men much older than his twenty-two years, all men who were members of his father’s council. Winning this war had been important not just to protect his kingdom’s lands but also to prove to these men that he will be as strong a leader as his father was.

He begins to walk along the outer walls of his room, vaguely listening to their incessant chatter about what he should do with the newly conquered lands. King David of Ithaca had been foolish to attack their outlying lands. The war had lasted two years because David had taxed his subjects mercilessly to afford it, but that was his downfall. With much of their lands destroyed and not enough stored food, the man’s subjects were seeking new lands to work, new shops to open and they were pouring into the walls of King Steven’s castle.

Steven shakes his head bitterly at the waste of it all. But when he lifts his head, it’s to see a youth being dragged towards him by two guards, a prize to be seen by everyone in the great hall. The youth is dressed in the style of King David’s clan, cream colored loose shirt coming untucked from a blue and green plaid skirt…or kilt as they say. His hair is long and brown, flying around as he struggles mightily against his captors.

“Ah, the gift,” Lord Morgan steps up to speak in Steven’s ear. The lord is the highest ranking military general and Steven is starting to think the man has gotten far too used to having Steven’s confidence since the war. But he listens as Morgan continues.

“This was David’s whore, Christian,” Morgan explains, deliberately leaving off the defeated king’s title. “He was sent for your majesty’s enjoyment.”

Morgan’s tone is smug. Steven knows what’s expected of him, to show his dominance over David’s whore as he did David’s kingdom. But Steven frowns as he comments, “Isn’t he a bit unruly for a concubine?”

Steve sees the smirk drawing up one side of Morgan’s lip before the man replies, “Perhaps David enjoyed some sport in his bed.”

The other men around him laugh, but Steven’s attention is on the young man as the tousled head lifts and Steven finds himself staring into the deepest blue eyes he’s ever seen. They’re so captivating that it takes Steven a long moment to register the rest of the man’s face, to see the man’s youthful beauty. The v of the man’s shirt is unlaced and Steve can peripherally see the man’s chest heaving. He’s beautiful.

But the men’s laughing just encourages Morgan to continue his derogatory remarks. “It’s no wonder we crushed their useless armies, they dress their youths in skirts like girls.”

Even though Steven is staring right at the youth, he’s surprised when the youth lunges forward, aiming to attack Morgan despite that the guards yank him back immediately.

The council members including Morgan are stunned into silence at the youth’s violent attack. But then Morgan takes a menacing step forward and Steven knows the man well enough to recognize the violence looming.

Offended by the scene starting in his great hall, Steven intervenes before anything else can happen. “Take him to my quarters,” Steve orders the soldiers.

The young man snarls with bared teeth as he’s dragged off, but still doesn’t say anything, doesn’t beg or plead or shout angry epithets. Steven watches them go in interest.

***

Steven enters his bed chambers for the night dressed in a simple cotton shirt for sleeping after enjoying a warm bath. Baths are one thing he missed sorely during the time he spent in the field, but bed partners, those he never lacked.

He can see the shape on the bed as he lifts the curtain that separates the bed from the sitting room, the huddled form of the cleaned and naked youth fast asleep, exhausted from the journey, long hair falling over the youth’s face and the pillow like a woman lying there. Steven’s blue eyes are bright in the lamp light as they trace the glinting length of metal chain from a slim wrist, half under the captive’s body, to the hook in the wall.

He looks painfully young asleep, his body thin in the way that growing teenagers are, the delicate jut of his hip flowing into the round curve of his buttock as the youth lies curled on his side. Before Steven realizes it his hand is running down along smooth skin.

The youth snuffles against the pillow, waking slowly at the gentle touch. Taking advantage of the compliance, Steve gently rolls the sleepy youth over and climbs on top, his knees straddling the well-built thighs for now.

Steven nudges the youth onto his back, but it’s not til the brunette’s head turns that he opens those captivating eyes. Steven is expecting the shock that he sees in those ocean-like depths, expecting for the youth to struggle, but he already has a firm grip on the boy’s biceps and he leans his weight down.

The youth’s pretty face sets in a hard angry mask as he struggles harder, twisting from one side to the other, his hips coming off the bed as he tries to pull himself out of Steven’s grip. But Steven maneuvers easily, forcing one leg between the youth’s as he bends down, releasing one wrist to lean his weight on a forearm laid across the youth’s surprisingly developed chest. This isn’t the first sport he’s had in his bed.

Steven’s nightshirt rises up his thighs as he drops his body down on the writhing one underneath him. He presses down on both shoulders with his elbow and hand, freeing his other hand to trail down silky, tan skin.

The youth grunts at the pressure, his arm flailing as he tries to hit Steve’s face. But as Steve’s hand slides lower, dipping inside the youth’s thigh, skimming along the crease of the youth’s buttocks, the struggles cease.

Smiling at the youth’s surrender, Steven raises his eyes to the youth’s face, but he’s the one shocked to see the utter horror in wide blue eyes. They’re both absolutely still for a moment before the youth begins to struggle again, wildly this time, without any strategy it seems.

“Nooo,” the youth cries out. It’s the first time Steven has heard the youth’s voice, but he doesn’t notice the sound of the voice, only the desperation. “No!”

The youth’s almost hysterical, and Steven doesn’t think before he kneels up to let the youth go. The youth wastes no time once released, scooting up the bed towards the headboard and away from Steven, pulling his legs into his chest as if to shield himself, his breathing having the harsh sound of sobbing.

Drawing in a noisy breath of his own, Steven hangs his head down, frustrated, angry at himself and this youth that defies him, and unsure what to do. This youth was David’s concubine and yet he denies Steven the pleasures of his company.

Moving suddenly, Steve gets off the side of the bed, reaching for the key to the lock holding the youth’s chain to the wall hook. Releasing the lock, he pulls on the chain, pulling the youth off the bed behind him and across the room to the fireplace. In the stone wall beside the mantle is a hook where he refastens the chain’s lock, leaving the youth to sleep on the floor by the fire.

Steven pauses, watching the kneeling youth who’s watching him back with wary, red eyes. On impulse, he grabs an extra blanket off the wooden trunk at the end of his bed, tossing it at the youth. Then he stalks back across the floor, climbing into his bed and blowing out the lamp without another glance back.

***

Slowly, Christian pulls the blanket towards where he kneels, keeping his attention mostly on the curtain between him and the king’s bed as he wraps himself in it. He shifts to lean against the stone, warm from the proximity to the fire.

He knows that he is a concubine, but this…this is different. King David first saw him when he was fifteen, working with the king’s stable of   
horses with his father. It was an honor to be chosen and he was prepared to give his body over to the king.

But it never happened. The war happened instead. For two years, Christian lived in the palace, separate from his friends and family, from everyone, being prepared for King David to return. But the king never did.

He spent years waiting for King David, loyal and steadfast. The idea of now laying beneath this usurper, this man who killed King David, it’s unendurable. It feels like a betrayal, not only betraying his king, but his father, his people.

And he’s scared. He’s been taken forcibly from his home, from the place where he belonged, where he had the king’s protection. This king cares nothing for him. This king is simply brutal, taking what he wants. Christian is surprised the man stopped. He could have continued   
despite Christian’s resistance.

Christian must fall asleep like that, sitting and leaning against the wall, because suddenly he’s blinking his eyes against a room filled with sunlight. Focusing, he sees King Steven opening the wooden shutters of the room’s single window.

He starts to sit up, pressing back against the wall in fear as the king approaches him, but King Steven passes him by, going to the fireplace. Christian stays immobile as the older man grabs the fire iron and pokes at the dying fire. Christian is actually surprised that the king does even that much for himself.

But after the king is finished with the fire, he turns to Christian, cowering there against the wall. And the way King Steven looks at him in that moment, blue eyes soft and attentive. The king is looking at him like…looking at him like David did that first time, like Christian is suddenly the most interesting thing in the world, like he has to have Christian.

Christian sucks in a surprised breath as the king crouches down in front of him, close and intimate.

“Your name,” King Steven commands.

Christian answers without thinking, obeying as he has long been taught to do. “Christian.”

King Steven moves closer then, his hand reaching up to gently stroke Christian’s face. “I can see why King David favored you. You are very beautiful,” the king says, whispering due to their closeness.

Swallowing, Christian’s eyelashes flutter but he can’t take his eyes off the man in front of him, off of blue eyes and pink, pink lips. The king is handsome, not in the way that King David was, but young and golden, soft.

Christian’s eyes follow the hint of a smile turning up King Steven’s lips, and it takes a moment to focus on the words being spoken. “But King David never touched you, did he?”

Christian’s anger flares like a spark on dry grass. “He never had the chance because of your war.”

Jaw set and eyes hard, Christian stands up, leaving the king and the blanket on the floor. He’s incredibly aware of his nakedness in the chill morning air and he doesn’t need to look down to see that the older man’s eyes are on his body.

He stares straight ahead resolutely as he says stiffly, “It was an honor to be chosen as a concubine of King David. I am prepared to fulfill my duties with his conqueror.” He pauses there and his anger leaks through into his next words, “But don’t expect me to just lie there without a fight.”

The silence after his words stretches out as Christian fights not to shift his stance, not to look down. He knows that he’s being disobedient, disrespectful. He’s given the king every excuse to punish him, even kill him. It’s not as if he’s worth anything, not even something sentimental here.

Finally, King Steven stands up, slowly, and settles the blanket back over Christian’s shoulders, covering his body again. Confused, Christian stares into bright blue eyes.

“I will not force you,” King Steven says, but the heat in his eyes denies his words. But then the king steps back, leaving Christian there, taking the intimacy of the moment away. “You can be a personal servant. That way I can at least look upon your beauty.”

Christian scowls and starts to protest the demotion but then there’s a knock at the door. The knock is only a formality because King Steven doesn’t say a word but the door opens anyway. Two servants dressed in the king’s blue and silver livery scurry inside.

Pulling the blanket tighter around himself, Christian watches as Steve has one of the men pour fresh water into a washing bowl. He feels completely out of place as he watches the men fulfill their duties. He’s not sure what he is here. He’s not really the king’s concubine, he’s just a ‘gift’, something to be used and then thrown away. He’s a foreigner here, strange and despised.

“Let Christian wash up too,” King Steven orders dismissively but Christian can see the disbelief written over the servants faces.

Presented with the bowl of water, Christian washes because he wants to. But then another servant is approaching with clothes. It takes him a   
moment to realize that the clothes are meant for him to wear. Because they’re clothes in the style of this kingdom.

Christian stares across the room, watching as Steve holds his arms out that the manservant can pull the leather vest over his shirt. In all that Christian was upset at being dragged to a new kingdom to serve a new king, it never occurred to him that he would be expected to leave his own culture behind, his own clothes. He’s expected to be one of these people, expected to dress like one of them.

But he doesn’t have any other choice but to put them on. They took his clothes away last night and he doubts he’ll ever see them again. This is his new life, his new role. He can’t ever go back.

He looks down at the clothes presented to him, the expensive and rare silver thread, the beautiful blue that’s neither dark nor light but deep, and the intricately worked leather. He doesn’t even know how to get into the leather pants.

But the manservant is there to help him, much as Christian hates it and wants to pull away. The leather feels heavy and stiff on his skin, restraining him just like everything else about this life.

Christian looks up to see King Steven standing right in front of him again, assessing how he looks in the fashion of this kingdom.

“The blue is beautiful on you,” King Steven murmurs, ignoring the other men in the room as he looks into Christian’s eyes.

Christian looks to the ground in embarrassment at the compliment, particularly as he was thinking that the colors look beautiful against the king’s skin and eyes. The thought makes him uncomfortable. After years of being kept safe from wandering eyes and hands, kept safe from temptation in King David’s household, spending this much time in the presence of a handsome man, a man obviously flirting with him is a strange experience. One he finds himself far too interested in.

“Come,” King Steven says, but the words come out as a low purr. “You will come with me to my study.”

The manservant finishes the last of the ties on Christian’s boots and then Christian somberly steps forward to follow the king. If this is to be his life, he may as well meet it head on. He may not have been born a concubine, but he is going to hold his head up high.

His acceptance lasts only long enough for them to pass through the door into the study. The man from the great hall is there, the big burly man with the beard who made fun of Christian’s people and king. The man’s dark eyes linger lasciviously on him as he enters the room behind King Steven.

***

Steven’s eyes also follow the youth, Christian he reminds himself. The youth is compelling, beautiful and wild, defiant and vulnerable. He makes Steve feel uncertain, which is not a feeling that Steve likes, though he can’t seem to distance himself.

Taking a seat at the table spread with breads and fruits for breakfast, Steven gestures for Christian to sit as well. A concubine would take most meals in the king’s bedchamber but can be seen out at meals and events with the king. But if Christian is simply a servant, he would need to sleep and take his meals in the servants’ quarters.

But Christian doesn’t sit as instructed. Perhaps the youth did not understand the meaning of the gesture. Christian is not one of them after all.

“Sit, Christian,” Steven orders. “Eat some breakfast with me.”

But still Christian doesn’t sit. Instead the boy’s jaw tightens even as he speaks, “No, thank you.”

Now it’s Steven whose anger flares. He clenches his jaw but keep his eyes on the wooden table. He dares not look up at Morgan’s face. He doesn’t want to see the older man’s reaction to Christian’s defiance of him, doesn’t want to give Morgan the satisfaction of seeing how it affects him. He knows what Morgan expects, swift and memorable punishment, but that isn’t how Steven wants to treat these people even if they are conquered. They are now his subjects, and he doesn’t want to rule by fear.

He doesn’t want to see that look of horror again in those sky-blue eyes. He doesn’t want Christian to be the same as every other obedient bed partner. He wants the kind of loyalty that Christian shows for a king with whom he never even shared a bed.

If only the youth could keep his mouth shut in front of Morgan like a respectable concubine. Swallowing his frustration, Steve waves the youth off, spearing a piece of fruit with his knife as if the youth’s defiance of his command is nothing.

“What is it, Lord Morgan?” Steven says dismissively before eating a piece of apple.

Morgan nods in deference at being acknowledged by his king, but his voice is almost arrogant as he regales Steven with news of how the soldiers are still stationed in King David’s lands. Already, the generals under King David have been relieved of their lands and forced to take oaths of loyalty to King Steven. But Morgan is convinced that King David’s people need to be punished further before they can be assured of their loyalty. Whereas Steven is convinced they’ve been punished enough by King David.

But Morgan seems to be taking great pleasure in disparaging King David’s people in front of Christian. “You can’t expect them to be civilized,” Morgan says. “They will not be grateful at your majesty’s generosity if you are lenient with them. They will take advantage of your majesty.”

Shaking his head, Steven abandons his food and stands up, stalking over to his desk, searching its surface with his eyes.

“Christian, grab me that scroll behind you,” Steven orders.

The command was unthinking but surprisingly, Christian does obey immediately. Steven grabs the scroll from the youth, but as he’s opening it, Morgan continues his rant.

“They need to be beaten down like the dogs they are until they accept your majesty’s authority,” Morgan states harshly. “Look at what King David did to his own people, robbing them to fund his own army while they starved. King David was more concerned with his pretty little whore!” Morgan’s voice rises on the last sentence, gesturing at Christian.

The effect on the youth is immediate and Steven looks up as he hears the youth’s angry voice, shouting back. “You’re the animals! Rabid dogs destroying everything around you. And your king wasn’t enough of a man to fuck me!”

Steven’s hand lashes out before he even considers his action, striking Christian across the cheek with the scroll, the force of the blow causing the smaller youth to fall against the wall behind him.

Steven can’t decide what is more shocking, his own violent action or the words that came out of the youth’s mouth. He’s just thankful that Christian doesn’t lift those crystal blue eyes, he doesn’t want to see what expression is in them.

“Take him back to my bedchamber,” Steven hoarsely orders one of the guards stationed at the doorway.

Fortunately, Christian goes obediently with the guards, but as soon as they’re through the door, Steven is turning away, turning to lean his hands on the desk. He’s conflicted. Christian was understandably upset by Morgan’s comments, but those are common sentiments in Steven’s kingdom against the conquered. Christian has to recognize his place, both as a foreigner in this kingdom, but also as Steven’s concubine or manservant. He has to respect those above him no matter what they say.

How can he teach Christian the youth’s place? What discipline will break a youth’s allegiance to a conquered kingdom, convince Christian that he can’t behave this way? And how will Steven ever be able to look into those wide innocent eyes and discipline the youth?

He’s almost forgotten that Morgan is still in the room, caught up in his feelings for this youth that he only met yesterday. But then the older man clears his throat.

“That is exactly what I’m talking about,” Morgan starts, his voice low and careful. “He needs to be shown his place and then he will be a beautiful addition to your majesty’s household.”

Steven doesn’t answer. Of course, Christian needs to be shown his place, but Steven hates the idea of doing it.

“I...could take care of it for your majesty,” Morgan offers. “I could make him into an obedient concubine.”

Steven cocks his head to the side, suddenly listening. As much as he hates to give Morgan the satisfaction of doing this for him, the idea is very tempting. He wants Christian, but if Christian doesn’t change his behavior there will be more serious consequences.

Slowly Steven turns to lean back against the edge of the desk. Crossing his arms over his chest, Steven says nonchalantly, “I don’t feel like dealing with an unruly slave. I want him in my bed, obedient. But,” Steven pauses to emphasize his next words. “But don’t touch what is mine.”

“Of course not, your majesty,” Morgan answers with a slight bow. “And I will not damage his beautiful face, but I will need to punish him.”

Steven doesn’t want to think about what Morgan’s methods might entail. It has to be done and Steven is just glad that it won’t be him to do   
it.

“Go get him,” Steven orders.

***

Back again in the king’s bedchamber, Christian goes to his knees beside the fireplace, his hand cupping his throbbing cheek. He knows that he was wrong, but it doesn’t stop the fear about the punishment that he knows is coming. It also doesn’t stop the feeling of betrayal.

He thinks of that soft touch this morning, those amorous stares. But he knows this is his own fault. He’s thankful that Steven stopped last night, but then he just threw it back in the king’s face. He was just so angry, he said whatever would be hurtful.

Christian doesn’t look up when the door opens, keeping his eyes downward in repentance for his earlier behavior. He has to surrender to the king’s punishment.

But it’s not King Steven’s voice who interrupts the silence, “Boy, stand up.”

In surprise, Christian jerks his head up to see Morgan standing with soldiers at the door. The man is smiling at him with bared teeth, like a jackal.

Instinctively, Christian tries to push back further into the stone wall behind him. “Wha…?”

But he doesn’t get out a single full word before Morgan is barking an order at him. “Stand up, boy. You do not have the right to question.”

Hesitantly, Christian gets to his feet, but stays with his back to the wall. Up until now, he’s been safe in the knowledge that he belonged to the king, no matter how the men dragging him to this kingdom stared at him or made comments. He never imagined that King Steven would give him over to someone else. Particularly not give him this burly man.

“King Steven has rightly decided that you need to be taught a lesson,” Morgan says far too smugly. “And I’m going to teach you that lesson.”

With a swift move of Morgan’s hand, the soldiers are back on Christian, grabbing at his arms and pulling him forward and out of the king’s rooms. He can’t even get his feet underneath him, they’re going so fast.

“Take him down. I don’t want to disturb anyone with the noise he’ll be making,” is the last thing Christian hears Morgan say before he’s being dragged past the older man.

There are many stairs and Christian keeps his head down as they pass other servants on the way. He has no idea how far down they go or where they are when they finally enter an austere room with wooden support beams. He’s dragged to the center of the room and then the soldiers turn around so that Christian is facing the door as Morgan enters the room after them.

“Drop him,” Morgan orders the two guards. “And wait outside the door.”

They guards literally drop Christian and he falls hard on his knees. Struggling back to his feet, he keeps his eyes on Morgan, wanting to see what’s coming. His heart feels like its pounding out of his chest and his breath comes in fast pants in his fear, but he tries to stand tall as Morgan approaches him.

The man is so much bigger than Christian is, dark eyes looking down on him considering. “You think you can talk back to me, boy?” Morgan asks, his voice low and threatening.

Christian opens his mouth to respond but the older man keeps speaking. “You are a whore, boy, a slave to be used at the whims of your betters.”

Despite everything, Christian is surprised when Morgan’s hands grab at him. For a moment, he just fights blindly, not knowing what’s going on, but then he realizes Morgan is trying to get the vest Christian is wearing off. But no matter, how Christian tries to push the man off, no matter how he twists and turns in the strong man’s grasp, he can’t get free.

“Whores don’t need clothes,” Morgan growls as he pulls the vest off Christian’s shoulders and then tears at the thin shirt   
beneath. “Disobedient slaves are unworthy of wearing the clothes of this realm!”

Morgan rips out the leather tie that holds Christian’s britches together, but there are still the boots to get off. Suddenly, Morgan takes a   
step back, leaving Christian unbalanced. The slap is hard, resounding loudly in the empty space, knocking Christian flat on his back.

Hitting the ground, Christian immediately rolls to his side, curling in to protect himself. His cheek is throbbing in bright bursts of pain after being hit twice. But as Christian lies there, he realizes that Morgan isn’t still trying to divest him of his pants.

“Take them off,” Morgan orders in a loud, booming voice. “You’ll take off your pants and boots, or the punishment will be much worse than what you already have coming.”

Christian has the urge to scream back, to rage and scream out all his fear, but he swallows it down, unwilling to give Morgan the satisfaction. Fuming at Morgan’s disdain, Christian sits up cautiously, leaning down to pull out the stupid leather ties holding the boots up. He’s only too happy to take off these stupid clothes. But he knows that humiliation isn’t all that Morgan has in store for him.

He pulls off the long boots and then he chooses to stand before sliding the fitted pants down his legs. Morgan starts to circle him before he’s even kicked the pants off his feet, slowly walking around Christian as if he’s only a piece of meat to be inspected, to judge its worth.   
Breath hitching, Christian knows what will happen now, Morgan is going to follow through with what King Steven started last night.

His body goes stiff as Morgan’s big hands grabs the back of his neck in an iron grip. Christian doesn’t have a chance to struggle as he’s dragged over to one of the wooden pillars and forced down to his knees again. Morgan pushes the side of his face into the wooden harshly, like the man is trying to crush his skull there.

“Put your arms around it,” Morgan shouts. And then louder, “Put your arms around it!”

But Christian is so scared, it takes him a moment to figure out what the man is even saying. Then he brings his arms up, the pillar so large that his hands don’t meet around it.

“Up on your knees,” Morgan orders with a hiss. Then he shoves Christian’s head into the wood one more time and walking off.

Practically shaking, Christian’s eyes follow the man as Morgan walks over to the wall where a whip is hanging on a hook on the wall. And Morgan obviously wants him to see, to watch as Morgan picks up the handle, lets the long leather tail trail on the stone floor.

Slowly, Morgan winds the length of the leather whip over his hand, drawing out Christian’s apprehension. Christian feels like he can’t breathe, like there’s something squeezing his chest to prevent any air getting in, and he flinches at every slight sound, the crunch of Morgan’s boots on the stone floor, the creak of the whip’s leather around Morgan’s strong hand.

Then Morgan moves behind him, out of sight. As much as Christian wants to turn and watch, he knows enough to stay still, listening as much as he can over the sound of his own harsh breathing. His heart pounds against the walls of his chest, against the wooden pillar his chest is pressed against.

He hears the thunderous crack of the whip cutting through the air right before he feels the sting, fire on his back that has his arching away from the pain. He’s crying out before he can even think to stop the noise.

Really shaking now, Christian grits his teeth and stays silent as a second lash lands. But he can’t stop the tears that gather in his eyes and then slowly trail down his cheeks, one tear, then two.

He doesn’t know how long it continues. All he can feel is the fiery pain in his back that seems to go right through him, penetrating him. His breath stutters, sawing in and out of his open mouth. And then the edges of his vision begin to look blurry and gray, and then black.

But then he hears Morgan’s voice, shouting at him again. “Are you ready to submit to me, boy?!”

Christian takes a second to breathe, leaning against the pillar that he’s dug his short fingernails into like claws. But he knows what his answer is.

“Fuck you,” Christian says as loud as he’s able though it still comes out a quiet growl.

For once, Christian is ready for the lash that immediately follows. And the next following brutally close behind.

But just as the darkness threatens again to drag him under, he hears the heavy doors of the room crash open. And King Steven walks in. King Steven looks incredibly bright as if lit by the sun’s rays even though they’re in the basement with only torches to light the darkness. His skin and hair seem to glow, golden and warm, and his eyes, the bright, bright blue of them as they stare straight at Christian.

***

Steven’s shouting for Morgan to stop as he rushes across the room to where the youth kneels. He just came down here to check, just to see what was going on. But he has to stop it.

Christian is limp where he leans against the pillar, his long eyelashes fluttering rapidly against his tear-soaked cheeks. The youth’s whole back is bright red, long lines of welts criss-crossing tan skin, one wrapping around the youth’s hip, some bleeding, long trails of bright red. After a moment, Steven looks back from the damage and he can see that Christian’s back is heaving, breaths coming far too fast.

“Guards!” Steven shouts. He doesn’t wait for the guards at the door to reach him before continuing his commands. “Take him to Juliet’s rooms.”

Steven puts a hand over his mouth in horror as the guards try to move the youth. “Careful,” He hisses as the youth lets out a low moan.

It’s only as the youth is being carried out of the room that Morgan attempts to speak. “Your majesty, you know…”

“Stop!” Steven cries. Then he turns to the older man and stands up to his full height before addressing Morgan again. “Do not question me.

No matter what I said earlier, I say now that this is unnecessary. That is the end of this discussion.”

Spinning around on his heel, Steven stalks out of the room, leaving Morgan behind him.

Christian is just an innocent youth, Steven thinks, a concubine who had never even fulfilled his duties. Why would Steven need to show his dominance over such a petty insult? Instead, he needs to dominate Morgan, and those other members of the court too used to his father’s rule, too used to thinking of him as an indulged child.

Steven goes to Juliet’s servant quarters where she is allowed two rooms, one for herself, and one with two beds for injured or sick servants to stay as she tends to them. Christian is the only person there now needing care, laying on his front with a sheet pulled up over his backside.   
He’s apparently still unconscious.

Going over to the youth, Steven is startled by the sound of Juliet entering the room with a clean bowl of water and a cloth. She gives the king a small smile before walking over to the other side of Christian’s bed.

“What is his name?” she asks as she continues the job of cleaning Christian’s wounds.

Steven watches Christian’s eyelashes flutter at the pain of her ministrations but the youth doesn’t wake. It takes him a moment to answer her question.

“Christian,” he says softly.

She nods at his answer and begins to hum something low and almost tuneless. His eyes are drawn back down to the gashes on Christian’s back.   
The sight is horrific, the injuries pointless. And all of it was to have an obedient concubine. As if Steven couldn’t find a hundred others. Now whatever spark that there was between them has certainly been extinguished.

“He will sleep for a while,” Juliet’s voice interrupts his thoughts.

Steven looks at the healer but she’s not looking at him, still looking down at her patient and gently smoothing the youth’s hair back from his face. Steven suddenly can’t stand to watch anymore, and so he turns around and walks out the door.

But that’s not the end. No matter how Steven tries to convince himself that Christian is better off without him, that the youth undoubtedly hates him now, he can’t stop thinking of Christian. He can’t stop thinking that he finally understands now. But it’s too late. He ends up sending everyone away and ignoring all of his responsibilities for the day. He simply can’t concentrate.

Tossing and turning in bed that night, he knows he has to go back. If for no other reason, he has to figure out what to do with the youth now. And this time he’d like to ask Christian’s opinion on the matter.

The next morning, he puts off going to see the youth until he at least meets with his council about the conquered lands. Steven knows what they expect. They all expect him to do as they desire, to give the lands to Lord Morgan who will rule over them with an iron fist. But that   
is not what Steven has planned.

After they have all been seated on both sides of the long table, Steven sweeps confidently into the room. “I have decided what will be done with the rest of the lands taken from King David,” he declares.

He pauses then, taking some kind of obscene delight in watching the way the men look at one another with smug expressions. “Viscount Timothy   
Hutton, you will now be Earl of Ithaca formerly King David’s lands.”

All of the men’s heads twist to stare at the dark-haired man in question. Timothy Hutton was not born a nobleman but had been elevated by King Steven because of his sound advice. But many thought that such a made man was not worthy of titles.

“But your majesty, to control the country side…” Morgan starts as Steven knew he would.

“This is not up for debate. The people of the countryside are starving. We stand to keep their loyalty more with bread than with swords. We need them to continue working that land,” Steven explains firmly. He’s looking at Timothy as he speaks and he can see the understanding and agreement in the man’s blue eyes.

Steven backs a step away from the table before turning on his heel and heading back out into his private study, dismissing them. He doesn’t stay to hear any of their opinions on his decision, but he knows that they will consider it an affront to Lord Morgan. But it’s time that he let them all know who is king of this kingdom.

After leaving, Steven goes straight downstairs to Juliet’s rooms. He slows as he nears the room, keeping his steps soft so as not to disturb the youth if he is sleeping. But as he pokes his head around the corner, he’s surprised to see Christian sitting up on the bed, wearing leather pants with bare feet.

The youth has some kind of wrap around his wounds, strips of linen cloth crisscrossing his bare chest. From what Steven knows of Juliet’s healing, the strips are holding poultices in place over the swollen welts. Christian is alone, seemingly engaged in tying together some loose strings from the bedcovers.

Suddenly feeling a voyeur, Steven knocks on the wooden door to announce himself before stepping fully into the room. At the sound, Christian’s head jerks up in surprise and the youth immediately winces at the pull on his abused back. It just makes Steven feel worse.

But then those bright blue eyes are staring at him with so much emotion in them, pain and confusion and defiance. Without realizing, Steven is looking for that spark to still be there, but the youth is turning his face away before Steven can really know.

“How are you?” Steven asks stupidly. As guilty as he feels, Christian’s condition isn’t really his fault. Servants have been hanged for saying such things about the king as Christian did.

Christian’s shoulders are stiff as he continues to stare over at the other empty bed. “I’m fine, your majesty,” Christian says in a voice just as stiff. “I apologize for my earlier words about your manhood.”

Steven nods and takes a step closer to the youth’s bed. He’s torn between being a king and being a man, a man that cares for Christian romantically. He has to find a way to be both.

“I forgive you,” Steven answers diplomatically. “Juliet is a very practiced healer though she is young. And unconventional,” Steven finishes with a small private smile.

“Thank you for your generosity in giving me her care,” Christian says flatly.

Now Steven can’t help but frown at Christian’s cold demeanor towards him. It seems Morgan has given him the obedient servant that the older man promised.

Casually, Steve poses the next question. “What were you before you were chosen as concubine?”

“My father is a horse trainer. He ran the king’s stables,” Christian answers in a softer, wistful voice.

Steven nods, thinking to himself that his own stables would be a good place for the youth to work, close enough but not so close as to be entirely distracting.

But just to be certain, Steven asks, “Would you like to work in the stables here?”

“If that would please your majesty,” the youth responds.

But Steven notices how Christian’s eyes glance in his direction, wanting to look at him. Steven doesn’t know what that means about Christian’s feelings about working in the stables though.

Steven doesn’t know what he’s doing here when Christian is obviously uncomfortable with him. But then he has another thought.

“Where is Juliet?” Steven asks.

Christian’s eyes cut over towards him again, staring at Steven’s booted feet. “She had other things to do, herbs to pick, other servants to look in on. She just said not to lean on my back and keep these poultices on.”

Steven’s brain starts to spin with thoughts and possibilities. Christian is obviously bored, sitting here along all day. Maybe there’s a way to break through to Christian again.

“I will come and see you again later then,” Steven says.

Later turns out to be after lunch. Steven left the new Earl of Ithaca at his work and stole away for a while. But before going back down to Christian’s room, he goes to find something from his bed chamber, something that he hasn’t taken out in a long.

When he goes back down to Juliet’s rooms, he finds everything much the way it was. Christian is still simply sitting there. Undoubtedly, Juliet told him to rest, but the youth doesn’t seem to be able to. Now Christian is playing with a large wooden spoon, hitting it against the lumpy mattress. Looking to the night table, Steven sees that the spoon must have come from a seemingly uneaten bowl of soup.

“Christian,” Steven starts as he enters the room. “Juliet still looking in on other servants?”

Startled, Christian looks up at him with wide eyes that quickly turn suspicious and then look away. Christian tries to shrug but then stops with a hiss of pain.

“Easy,” Steven says, moving next to the bed. “Are you very bored?”

Steven smiles as he asks the teasing questions and once again is rewarded with the sight of Christian’s questioning blue eyes again. But Christian doesn’t answer.

So Steven opens up the board and places it on the bed in front of the youth. “I thought you might want to play.”

This time those eyes don’t look away but continue to stare at him as if trying to read something written on Steven’s face. “Surely your majesty does not have time to play games with servants who used to be concubines,” Christian’s voice is more snide than teasing.

“Actually,” Steven begins as he sits down at the foot of the small bed. “I do have time to play games, just with you.”

Steven goes ahead and sets the pieces up on the board. But he pauses when he hears Christian speak again.

“Do you really want to play?” Christian asks, not looking at him again.

“Yes, I do,” Steven asks, confused by the question.

“I mean,” Christian pauses, looking uncomfortable as he shifts in place. “Do you just want to win?”

Steven almost laughs out loud at the boy’s cheek. This is what he was missing, what he wants.

“Absolutely,” Steven says, his cheerfulness leaking into his voice. “But I only want to win if you have done as best you can in the game.”

When he looks down to finish setting up the board, he can feel Christian’s eyes on him, trying to read him again. Steven doesn’t look up when he speaks again.

“Would you like to make a wager on it then?” he offers, looking up only as he finishes setting the last piece on the board.

“Wager what?” Christian asks as if intrigued.

Steven does smile at the youth’s forwardness. He wonders if that’s what David liked about Christian, or whether it is fortunate that their   
relationship was never consummated.

“Hmmm,” Steven ponders for a moment. “If I win, you will wear the traditional garb of this realm, but if you win, I will allow you to wear the shirt that the clans wear.”

“What about the kilt?” Christian counters.

Steven’s smile grows wider. “Perhaps we’ll wager the kilt on another game.”

Christian purses his lips as he considers Steven’s words, but then he nods in agreement of the terms. The game is on as Steven takes the first roll of the dice.

It’s mostly silent as they play. Steven is more interested in watching Christian than in concentrating on the game, watching every time Christian shifts and grimaces, watches as Christian bites his full lower lip as the youth thinks of his next move.

The game is close when Juliet enters the room, carrying a satchel of what are presumably herbs. Steven can see the disapproval on her face as she puts away the herbs.

In the end, Christian wins, by a small enough margin that he isn’t suspicious of Steven letting him win. Christian even seems surprised, looking up from the board with a triumphant grin on his face.

“Woohoo,” Christian says, looking up at Juliet as she comes over to the bed. “Look, I won…” he says to her, the only witness to his victory.

“Did you eat any of the soup?” Juliet asks, staring at the bowl instead of at Christian.

Christian’s celebration is short-lived, the grin falling off his face as he answers her. “Uhhh, yes, I did eat some,” he defends himself.

But it seems as if she didn’t even hear the question as she grips the youth’s chin, tilting his face up so that she can look at him.

“You are sweating,” she declares.

Steven feels as sheepish as Christian looks at the comment. But Christian wasn’t sleeping even without his distraction.

“I told you to rest,” she continues, speaking as child would when telling her dolls what to do.

But Steven stands up readily. In his estimation, his work is done. Christian looks a lot more ready to settle down for a nap now than he did earlier.

***

The next morning, Steven goes back down to Juliet’s rooms to visit with Christian, and he takes two gifts with him this time. Unsurprisingly, Christian is awake when he gets there, but this time Christian is up walking around the room.

Christian’s hand is reaching toward some strange carving hung on the wall, when Steven calls out to him disapprovingly.

“Christian!” Steven says suddenly. “You’re not supposed to be up.”

Christian reacts as if chastised, pulling his hand abruptly away from the carving as he tries to turn and see Steven. Unfortunately, the quick movement has Christian gasping out in pain, his face suddenly as white as the strips of cloth still tied around his chest. And then Christian losing his balance…

Steven barely has enough time to throw his gifts down on the nearest bed and race to the youth’s aid. He ends up catching Christian under the armpits as Christian’s head falls on Steven’s chest.

The impact seems to hurt Christian just as much as he hisses and pushes against Steven’s biceps to right himself into a position that doesn’t stretch his abused back. Steven doesn’t know how to help him so he just hangs on, bracing himself. Then he helps Christian as the youth starts over to the bed.

Sitting Christian down on the side, Steven moves his gifts to the bedside table and then suggests, “Perhaps you should lie down.”

Christian huffs in agitation, but he does as Steven suggestions, maneuvering into position with a few small sounds of pain.

“This is why you shouldn’t get up,” Steven can’t help chiding the youth.

Even with Christian’s face smushed against the mattress, Steven can tell Christian is making an annoyed face. “I can’t stay cooped up in   
here. I’m fine. You just startled me,” Christian defends himself.

Steven sighs because he understands Christian’s frustrations. But sending Christian out too soon will only result in a longer stay here in Juliet’s rooms.

“I will ask Juliet later when you will be able to leave,” Steven answers fairly.

Christian sighs himself but he also nods, presumably knowing that that’s the best answer he will get.

“Did you enjoy the stables?” Steven asks then. “Before, I mean.”

“I love the horses,” Christian answers in a subdued voice. “I’m sure you also have beautiful horses that I will enjoy taking care of.”

Steven frowns. Every time they speak of Christian’s new position, Christian becomes very formal so that Steven cannot tell how the youth   
really feels about the move.

“Is there another position that you would prefer?” Steven asks, getting to the heart of the matter.

“No, your majesty,” Christian answers, but again, the answer seems to tell Steven nothing.

Frustrated, Steven turns away, grabbing one of the gifts, a small basket containing ripe strawberries. He thought they might tempt Christian to eat more. He brings it into Christian’s line of sight.

“Strawberries?” Christian asks, his nearest arm moving towards the basket seemingly before he realizes it, because then Christian drops the arm over the side of the bed.

“Yes, would you like them?” Steven offers.

“No, thank you,” Christian says in that formal way again. “They’re for you.”

“Please eat them,” Steven says firmly. “I would hate for them to go to waste.”

Christian still looks dubious and makes no move towards the basket again, so Steven tries one more time. “Eat them.”

Carefully, Christian reaches for a small strawberry, bringing the red fruit to his pink lips. The berry is gone in a second.

Reaching for another berry, Christian then decides to sit up so that he can eat better. Steven barely resists trying to help, but he does put the bowl down on the mattress in front of the youth before taking a seat himself at the end again.

Christian watches him suspiciously as he eats another strawberry, but after a moment, concentrates more on eating. Christian eats the fruit quickly, finally eating with abandon like the youth Christian is. Steven’s the one who suddenly feel self-conscious as he simply stares at plump lips stained with juice that an agile tongue licks away. But as quickly as the youth eats them, he stops after about half the bowl.

“I should leave some for Juliet,” Christian says, breaking Steven out of his staring trance.

Steven is touched at the youth’s kindness, but he’s opening his mouth to convince Christian otherwise when another voice joins the conversation.

“I eat as many as I want in the fields,” Juliet says as she walks into the room with another satchel.

She goes over to the carving on the wall and stares at it suspiciously, as if she knows that Christian tried to touch it. But she doesn’t   
chastise him, simply puts the satchel on the table and opens it up, gently unwrapping bound plants and leaves.

Then it’s like she suddenly realizes they’re still there, still watching her and she turns back towards them. “Eat them,” she says, echoing Steven’s earlier words.

Suddenly looking sheepish, Christian bends his face to the bowl, eating the remaining berries more slowly as if not wanting to seem crass in front of the lady. But the bowl is empty soon enough.

“King Steven was wondering when I could go to work in the stables?” Christian asks, berries still inside his mouth.

Stunned, Steven’s own mouth drops open that Christian would have the audacity to make it sound as if it was him that wanted Christian out of this room as quickly as possible. Then Steven actually does laugh this time. But Christian’s face is an innocent mask.

Juliet stares at him as if he’s lost his mind completely before turning to Christian. Steven doesn’t stop her from answering the youth’s question, nor does he correct her assumption. It would not surprise Steven if Juliet has already seen through Christian’s deception anyway.

“He can go down there tomorrow,” she starts but then she shouts over Christian’s excited exclamation. “But you have to rest for the rest of the day. And you must only do light work tomorrow.”

“I know,” Christian says quickly. “No lifting or twisting or falling.”

Steven catches Christian’s blue gaze as the youth looks over when he mentions falling, an almost teasing glance there. That spark is there, the spark that Steven was afraid was gone, and now there’s more intimacy like they’re only talking to each other. They certainly only have eyes for each other in that moment.

Until Juliet breaks the moment. “He needs to rest now,” she says pointedly.

Steven hates to leave, hates to leave the youth just lying in the bed hurt and alone. And once Christian is working in the stables, it will be conspicuous for Steven to visit and bring Christian gifts, conspicuous for Steven to favor Christian when Christian is no longer a concubine in Steven’s bed.

***

Christian is in the stables the next morning. He feels completely ridiculous that he can’t do anything, but he does put hay and oats into each horse’s stall, petting each one and giving them each slices of apple. Afterwards, he thinks he’ll attempt to bathe each one, even though it   
may pull a little on his back.

Every time he looks at the welts and wounds on his back, he thinks that there should be more physical proof of the pain that he endured. But the healer woman, Juliet’s treatment of poultices kept the wounds moist and malleable.

However, other working men can’t keep from ragging on him, particularly considering his clan and his past as a concubine. He isn’t surprised at their words.

“Oh, the clansman can’t do any work today. Guess the King rode him too hard last night,” one man mocks his infirmity.

“Well,” starts another from behind Christian. “He can’t be that good, considering he’s down here working with us instead of in his majesty’s bed.”

The comment is followed by loud guffaws from all the older, larger men who work the stables.

“What would you expect from a clansman?” another man says, a man who watches him from the side as he fills each horse’s trough. “Maybe we should each test the boy out,” he threatens.

Christian pays no attention, shows as little weakness as he can manage, and besides words, the other men leave him alone. But the horses, it’s hard to explain how being with the majestic animals again makes him feel. They say nothing, but they want his attention, his touch, his love, whether he has a treat in his hand or not, and it soothes some portion of his soul he was heretofore unaware of.

He’s surprised when he hears King Steven’s voice. “No, thank you. I don’t need my horse saddled,” the low voice says.

Christian looks up from the last stall to see the king there, golden in the sunlight, fitted leather over muscular form. Steven stands there, tall and sure, confident in his own body and presence. The older man invites Christian to come over with his inviting smile, with his casual   
body language.

Christian can’t help but walk closer to the king, despite his confusion. Why would the king still visit him after kicking him out of the royal bed? Perhaps it is just to make certain that Christian can do his job, can do more than lie on his back.

But as he gets closer, King Steven motions him forward, puts a gentle arm around his back to lead him out of the stable.

“I thought we would take a walk. I just wanted to make certain that it was not too soon to send you to the stables, that you were not over-exerting yourself,” Steven says casually but with concerned eyes.

The king doesn’t really wait for an answer though, before he’s leading them out of the stables and speaking again. “Here,” the king says as he passes over a small cloth wrapped bundle. “I hope that you enjoy them.”

Christian can’t help unwrapping a small corner as he lets Steve’s hand on his back guide him into the center of the green bailey of the castle. The bustle of castle life is all around him, donkey and human drawn carts, laborers and small market stalls all around them. The cloth is full of red ripe cherries.

“Your majesty,” Christian starts. “I cannot…”

“You will,” King Steven replies with a smile still on his face despite the insistence of his tone. “I brought them for you.”

Looking down in embarrassment for his continual questioning of the king, Christian stuffs the parcel in the pocket hung from his belt. He is excited to eat them later, ripe fruit a luxury that is not often given to serfs within the castle.

“Thank you, your majesty,” he says quietly still looking down at his boots making footprints in the well-trodden mud.

King Steven is silent for a moment, simply enjoying the walk through the bailey it seems. But for Christian the stroll seems more significant. As a concubine, he was not allowed to go many places in the castle, but was confined mostly to King David’s rooms despite that the king was not there. It was hard to hear about his clansmen fighting and dying alongside his king while he stayed safe in the castle. But he was loyal to King David and obedient to his orders to stay put.

Even before that, when he worked in the stables with his father, he only went into the markets when he was told to buy something that his father needed. But here is King Steven, leading him right to the gates of the castle, as if to tempt him with escape.

But Christian knows he would only get about five feet from the walls before being caught. Instead, he looks out at the beautiful and luscious   
green countryside with the king beside him.

“We should take a walk,” King Steven says and for Christian, the words seem completely out of the blue. Why would the king want to walk in fields with him?

“Until Juliet declares that you are well enough to ride, at least,” King Steven continues, explaining his previous words while not explaining the reason behind his words at all.

“If you enjoy riding,” King Steven suddenly says, his tone of voice insinuating that Christian in fact doesn’t like riding.

“Yes, of course. Your majesty,” Christian adds the king’s title as a last, forgetting almost that Steven is the king, not in fact just a man.

The smile on Steven’s face at his response is wide and teasing, but the king only says, “Very well. We’ll go for a walk tomorrow at 11.   
You’re still too injured to do most of the work in the stables, but it’ll be good for you to get some exercise.”

Christian is in the middle of huffing in irritation when he realizes that the king has basically given him a gift, a reprieve from his duties to do something with the king. He’s not entirely certain what to think of that at this point. Why would the king want to spend time with him after kicking him out as concubine?

When he returns to the stables, the other men don’t seem to know what to make of the king’s visit either. They grumble around him, but don’t say anything loud enough for him to make out.

That night he goes to his new accommodations in the servants’ quarters. He is to share a room with another young man, Chad who is learning to work in the armory. After dinner, he takes out the parcel of cherries, and he offers to share half with Chad, but Chad seems suspicious of him having the fruit and refuses the offer.

Sighing, Christian settles onto his lumpy bed and begins to eat the cherries himself. He knows that his long hair tied back in a pony tail gives him away as a foreigner even before his accent does, even if he wasn’t wearing the loose shirt of his people. If Chad asked why he was given such a present, he wouldn’t know what to say. Anything would sound ridiculous.

But the fruit explodes across his tongue, sweet and sour and juicy like so few of their day to day foods are. He eats each one carefully around the seed inside and then throws the stems and seeds out the window before he shuts it.

The next morning, he’s anxiously awaiting the king’s return, glancing at the sun to gauge its position every few moments. The other men have   
hassled him a little, saying he’s going too slow, that he’s worthless if he can only put out the hay, asking when will he be able to work like a real man. But they don’t mention the king or Christian’s previous status as concubine again.

Christian is petting one of the hunting dogs that often hang around the horse area when he hears one of the other stable hands speaking.

“Shall I saddle your horse, your majesty?” Christian hears.

He looks up in time to see King Steven standing there, smiling at him as if the king knew that he didn’t think King Steven would show up.

Christian gives the dog a last pat one the head instead of rushing over. He feels like they are playing some sort of game and to give in too soon would be to give the game away.

But as soon as he’s walking towards the king, King Steven orders, “Come,” and then turns to lead the way. The king gives no explanation to the other stable hands about taking one of the workers away, offers no apology.

Christian sees that the king is carrying a pack and so he hurries closer to ask, “May I carry your pack for your majesty?”

Steven spares him a teasing glance as he answers, “You’re the injured one. I’ll carry the pack.”

Confused, Christian’s steps lag. It feels wrong to let the king carry a pack when he, a servant, carries nothing. But he’s already defied the king’s orders enough. And the king keeps casually mentioning Christian’s ‘injuries’. Is it a reminder to behave, reminding him of the   
consequences?

As soon as they’re out of the castle gates, though, Christian can feel the beginnings of a smile turning up the corners of his lips. They’ve only gone a few steps but already everything is different. It’s quiet enough that he can hear the wind moving the tall grass and the branches of the trees further away. He can hear the sound of birds chirping, smell the green grass and feel the sun on his face. Within the castle’s bailey, there is so much activity, so much noise and racket, so much dirt and dust that even the sun on his skin feels different in there, harsher than out here.

Christian doesn’t realize that he’s stopped walking until Steven steps close, putting a possessive hand on Christian’s shoulder and gazing at Christian as Christian had been gazing at the natural beauty surrounding them. For a second, Christian believes the king will kiss him, and his lips part on an exhale in preparation.

But King Steven only tucks an errant strand of hair, back behind Christian’s ears, his fingers lingering on Christian’s cheek.

“Come,” King Steven orders again. “Let’s get to the shade before the sun reaches its zenith.”

Christian falls back in line behind the king then, walking over to a copse of trees that are fed by a shallow stream. They’re far enough away that the castle is simply a looming man-made stone mountain, concealing all the hustle and bustle inside the walls.

“I brought you something,” King Steven says, interrupting Christian’s staring again.

Christian takes a round orange fruit from the king’s hand, something he’s never seen before. “Why do you bring me presents?” he asks.

King Steven’s expression tightens as if he doesn’t like Christian questioning him. But the king answers instead of reprimanding him. “Because I like to see you smile.”

Christian brings the fruit up to his nose, inhaling the fruit’s exotic scent. But when he bites into the fruit’s spongey skin, all he tastes is bitterness.

“No,” King Steven cries out, letting the blanket he was getting out of the pack fall to the ground. Then the king starts laughing as he makes his way over to Christian’s side. “You don’t eat the outside. You peel it.”

Christian frowns, feeling as if he’s been tricked, but he allows King Steven to take the fruit away from him, showing him how to peel back the outside that the king then throws onto the ground.

“You eat the inside,” King Steven tells him, handing back a wet, orange-ish fruit half covered in a white skin now. “But be careful of the seeds.”

Carefully, Christian bites into the fruit, pleasantly surprised that this time it tastes sweet. Then he notices that the king is spreading a blanket on the ground. He moves forward to help.

“Let me help,” he says, with the fruit’s juice running down his hands.

“No,” the king says simply, not even sparing him a glance as he finishes with the blanket and pulls out a canteen of water. “Finish eating.”

Grudgingly, Christian takes another bite. The fruit is really good and it’s gone in another two bites and then, trying not to hurt his back, he awkwardly squats at the stream’s edge to rinse his hands.

When he turns back to King Steven, the older man is sitting on the blanket and holding out the canteen. “Drink.”

It’s another disconcerting order that has Christian staring at King Steven just a beat too long, keeping the king waiting holding out the canteen. Christian wants to refuse. It’s utterly against the protocol that Christian has had drilled into his head to drink the king’s water, water he didn’t even carry for the king. But he’s finally starting to realize that King Steven would rather his obedience than to follow   
protocol.

Chastened, Christian nods and takes a drink from the canteen. He wonders what King David would have preferred, obedience or protocol. They   
never spent enough time together for him to know.

Wiping his lips with the back of one hand, he hands back the canteen. King Steven takes the canteen and then waves him down onto the blanket as well. Christian goes down heavily to his knees, thinking that would be the best way to get down there, but King Steven’s hands are reaching out to him, helping him down.

“Lie down and rest,” King Steven says in a soft voice. “You shouldn’t be on your feet all day already.”

Confused, Christian lies down on his stomach, searching a moment for a good position on the grass underneath. But he goes still when he feels the king’s fingers on his face. Steven is again tucking his long brown hair behind his ear, stroking his hair gently. It’s strange but it feels far too good to protest.

He must have fallen asleep because when he next opens his eyes, the sun has moved down towards the west and Steven’s hand is no longer in his hair. Instead, Steven is sitting on the blanket with his knees drawn up and his arms around them, looking into the trees, the sunlight   
filtering through the leaves and gilding his profile. Steven looks serene and self-assured, qualities Christian often wishes he possessed.

It takes Christian a moment to realize that he wasn’t thinking King Steven, but only Steven as if he were just a man.

But King Steven isn’t just a man and so Christian hurries to push up on his knees.

“How long was I asleep?” Christian asks, rubbing his eyes a little and squinting up at the sun through the tree branches.

“Only about an hour,” Steven answers, his voice still quiet as if to not disturb the stillness, the peace that surrounds them in this place.

Slowly, Steven turns his face, an easy smile curving his lips. Christian can’t stop staring for a moment, at the soft curve of pink lips, the golden lit curve of blonde hair, warm eyes blue as the sky above on this beautiful day. Why would the king care so much about him taking a break in the middle of the day?

Christian ducks his face in shame. He doesn’t want Steven to think he needs to be coddled, that he’s not tough enough to do his job.

“I’m fine now,” Christian says, clearing his throat and standing up. “Thank you…for the break, and the fruit.”

It’s suddenly awkward, but Steven, King Steven, doesn’t seem to feel any discomfort or hurry. Slowly, King Steven extends his legs and then stands up, bringing the blanket with him, shaking it out and then refolding it. Christian doesn’t offer to help this time but stands by uselessly.

“Tomorrow I will need to have my horse saddled in the morning. I will be gone for a day or two. But if you need to take a break, take it,” King Steven says, looking seriously into Christian’s eyes. “I have already spoken with the stable master.”

Christian flushes red, feeling the heart creep up from his neck but he can’t stop it. He doesn’t want those guys to hassle him more because he has the king’s permission not to work.

He knows that King Steven notices the color by the mischievous twinkle in blue eyes, but he simply continues speaking as if nothing is wrong.

“And when I get back, hopefully you’ll be well enough that we can take two of the horses for a ride,” King Steven says casually, swinging his pack over one shoulder and setting off, leaving Christian gaping in his wake.

Horses are expensive. Why would the king take a foreign servant for a ride? If the king is expecting him to be well by then, there’s no reason to further visit him. It makes no sense.

Confused thoughts plague Christian on the walk back to the castle, and continue that night. It seems his thoughts go round and round. King Steven didn’t want him as a concubine because of his disobedience. But Christian’s theory that the king was only visiting to make certain that Christian, a young healthy servant, was not permanently injured, no longer seems to be the case.

The next morning, Christian does his early duties at the stables, waiting anxiously at his last chance to see Steven for a few days. He’s surprised at his own feelings, his disappointment at not seeing Steven even for a short time. Even though he should be glad of the reprieve from the king’s confusing attention. But he also doesn’t think he’ll ever understand King Steven’s intentions without being near the king.

But when King Steven arrives, he doesn’t come with a few guards, he arrives with a whole contingent of guards and servants to attend him. It makes Christian suddenly stiffen must to the dismay of his still pained back. He doesn’t know how King Steven will act with all of these people around.

But King Steven simply sends each servant and guard off to see after their own horse and then walks over to Christian. He ends up standing there dumbly next to the king’s horse, a beautiful bay colored Neopolitan horse.

Steven steps too close, reaching out his hand to brush the horse’s flank, but his blue eyes are trained on Christian. Steven leans closer so   
that Christian can feel the smooth leather of the Steven’s vest through the thin material of his own loose shirt, and Steven’s lips are wet and parted. Christian can feel Steven’s hot breath on his face as he tilts his own face up. He barely realizes how tight the foolish britches suddenly are, because he can feel the desire in every tiny part of his body.

But Steven’s lips only barely graze the soft skin of Christian’s cheek, giving him a full body shiver, before Steven takes a step back. Christian immediately searches out Steven’s eyes, holding Steven’s gaze as Steven makes space between them. He swears that he can see an answering desire in those now dark blue eyes.

The moment is interrupted as Lord Morgan clears his throat and comes into sight. Christian immediately looks down at the ground, stepping back clumsily in his haste. He turns his body towards the horse, petting the horse’s nose as he tries to slow his excited breathing instead of   
listening.

He unties the horse and turns back, holding the horse steady as King Steven climbs on. Once mounted, King Steven speaks down directly to him despite Lord Morgan and other’s presence.

“I’ll see you when I get back in a few days,” King Steven promises with a smile.

But Christian is more inhibited by the other people near. “I will be here,” he says simply.

Lord Morgan stands beside Christian as he watches King Steven and the others ride off. Christian finds it strange that the Lord is not going, but he keeps his mouth shut this time.

It’s Lord Morgan who speaks to him. “Your charms must be quite beguiling,” Lord Morgan says rudely. “Particularly to kings.”

With those words, the lord is striding off back to the castle’s keep, leaving Christian alone with his thoughts for the next few days.

***

The days seem to go by slowly, two days that the king is gone. The other stablemen still make fun of him occasionally, but mostly leave him alone when they realize he’s not going to shirk his share of the work. And by the second day, he’s moving much easier even if he doesn’t lie on his back yet.

It’s the sound of horns blown and stampeding hooves that tells Christian the king is back on the morning of the third day. The company ride into the castle grounds with their brilliant blue and silver colored cloaks glinting in the sunlight. They don’t slow down until they’re right in front of the stable.

It’s obvious King Steven’s in a hurry, his handsome face set, blue eyes blazing. Christian’s nervous as he grabs the horse’s reins to allow King Steven to dismount. He feels out of place, their light flirtation having no place amidst the serious concerns of the affairs of running a kingdom.

But despite his hurry, King Steven stops and looks into Christian’s face, saying, “Tomorrow,” before rushing off into the castle’s keep.

It’s just a small thing, a simple bit of consideration, but it has Christian blushing, heat in the apples of his cheeks. He looks down at the ground, trying and failing to stop the smile curving his lips by biting them. Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.

The next morning King Steven arrives with his two guards and asks the stable master for his horse to be saddled. And he asks for another horse to be saddled, a beautiful black gelding. Christian ducks his face when Steven calls him over.

“Do you like him?” Steven asks.

“Who would not be honored to ride such a magnificent horse,” Christian replies respectfully.

But Christian can’t stop his hand reaching out to touch the horse. Steven smiles at him knowingly.

“Mount up,” Steven orders before walking over to his own horse.

The two guards are already waiting for them as they walk their horses out of the castle’s grounds. It has been a long time since Christian was on a horse and for a while he simply concentrates on the feel of the horse’s powerful muscles shifting beneath him, one of his hands letting go of the reigns to tangle in the long black mane.

Out of the castle’s walls, Steven begins a trot and the three others follow suit. Both hands on the reigns now, still Christian turns his head enough to look back at the castle, at the archers stationed on the walls. He can’t help wondering now if he really could make a run for it, escape.

It’s as if King Steven has read his mind when the mare slows in front of him, slows enough that Christian’s horse ends up beside the king’s own as they walk along. It takes a moment for the king to speak though.

“If you wanted to run, I wouldn’t stop you,” Steven says, not glancing over at Christian.

Christian looks back at the guards on horseback behind them and the archers on the walls. He knows that King Steven means that none of them would stop him. But why? Why would the king let him go like that?

But he doesn’t open his mouth to ask because he knows the answer would be the same as it was when asked about the gifts. King Steven didn’t answer the question then and undoubtedly he won’t now.

But perhaps the answer was truthful, Christian thinks as he looks over at the Steven’s profile. Perhaps Steven cares for him as King David did. Despite moving him to the stables, Steven’s behavior can only be described as flirtatious. But how to reconcile this kind caring man with the king who let Lord Morgan carry out his vicious punishment, with the king who forced him down on the bed that first night?

Christian is scared. He’s spent so long waiting to have sex, guarding his virginity that the idea of actually having sex is frightening. But when he thinks back to those instances, he has to also think of his own behavior. He fought King Steven that first night, and Steven fought back. But Steven stopped and Steven stopped Lord Morgan from administering more than the usual twelve lashes. He trusts Steven to stop again.

Decision made, there’s only one way that Christian can think of to show his interest. He extends one hand to brush along Steven’s own hand holding the reins. The reaction is immediate. Steven looks over at him with blazing blue eyes at the initiated contact. There was no way that the touch was accidental.

“What are you saying?” Steven questions lowly.

Christian drops his eyes and swallows hard. “To be with you. If you still want me?” he questions.

“You would be my concubine?” Steven asks. “You would lie with me, and only me? In return, I would give you freedom to move about, money and property…horses.”

Steven smiles at the last bit and Christian can’t help smiling back at the teasing. And then Steven grabs his hand, holding it as they amble along, until Christian answers.

“Yes,” he says.

Steven’s grip on his hand tightens, but he holds Steven’s gaze confidently.

“Now,” Steven says but its half a question and that comforts Christian. And Steven’s enthusiasm is infectious.

“Yes,” he answers smiling. Why not start the rest of his life right now?

Steven gives his hand one last squeeze and then grabs his reins back, turning his horse around. “Then let’s go,” he says and takes off like a shot back towards the castle.

Christian laughs out loud before following, relishing letting the horse run free and fast. He dismounts at the stable to be immediately pulled away by Steven’s hand on his arm. It’s a whirlwind then as he’s pulled quickly up the stairs and towards the king’s bedchamber, a whirlwind of sight and sound and the feel of his own heart beating up through his throat.

But as he’s pulled into the king’s bedchamber, the frantic pace suddenly slows. Steven lets go of his arm and instead gently holds Christian’s head and removes the hair tie. They stand there a minute Steven’s hands simply running through long dark hair just as Christian had run his hand through the horse’s mane earlier.

But it is soothing and Christian finds himself leaning into the touch almost immediately. But then Steven’s hands are at his shirt, slowly loosening the string tied there. His breath catches in his throat as those fingers are now at the waist of the pants, pulling the shirt out.   
Cool fingers brushing his skin have his stomach muscles clenching as the shirt is pulled over his head.

There’s only the sound of twin pairs of harsh breathing as Christian stands there, only missing his shirt but feeling completely exposed. Steven’s hands leave then, untying Steven’s vest. Christian’s fingers join the effort without his conscious approval, only wanting to touch   
soft skin underneath.

Steven pulls off his undershirt, but then his hands are on Christian’s bare back, gentle as they pull Christian forward until their chests meet. Immediately Christian relaxes against warm soft skin, his hands coming up to grip Steven’s biceps, not wanting to move.

Christian’s cheek rests against Steven’s shoulder, Steven’s hand against his head holding him there gently. There’s the gentle brush of Steven’s lips against his cheek, and Christian knows what’s going to happen, if he tilts his face up, a kiss, his first kiss and everything it means weighs him down.

But it’s easy to let Steven’s hand tilt his face, and then there are soft lips pressing against his own, so soft that Christian presses harder, moaning softly as his top lip is sucked.

It happens gradually that Christian can’t tell when the soft seduction became frantic again, but he thinks he’s at least as much to blame, his hands clawing at Steven’s back as he tries to press his whole body closer and closer. Steven’s just as bad with one hand on the back of Christian’s neck and the other kneading the still leather-covered muscles of his ass.

Christian has to break away to breathe, trying desperately to fill his aching lungs and Steven takes the opportunity to grab at the tie of his pants, trying to get it untied to no avail. He finds himself flat on his back on the bed before he has time to register it, Steven still working at the tie. It makes Christian giggle incongruously.

"I knew these pants were ridiculous," Christian says breathlessly, laughing even as he tries to catch his breath.

"This one time, I agree," Steven says harried.

But then the string comes free and Steven is working on the boots. Christian takes the initiative to try to wiggle the pants down his legs,   
Steven pulling them off after the boots. It takes half as much time for Steven to undress himself.

Christian starts to pull himself further up the bed but stops to watch. It's not that he's never seen another man undressed, it's that this is the first time that he's seen Steven undressed. Pale length of skin completely exposed, only broke by the wiry length of dark hair on his abdomen, hard cock jutting out.

But this time as Steven lies on top of him, he doesn’t resist, doesn’t think of resisting soft skin covering him, gentle sucking bites on his throat, and then Steven begins to move his hips, fiery heat of his cock dragging over Christian’s belly, Christian’s own achingly hard cock.   
Christian’s too caught up in wheat he’s feeling to notice that his head is thrown back, his mouth opening and issuing plaintive sounds of longing. He doesn’t notice until there are slick fingers pressing between his asscheeks again.

Turning his face to the side, Christian bites his lip to keep in any sounds. He’s fingered himself before in preparation for King David, but his nerves at what comes next have come back, rising up to choke him. What if he’s no good at it? What if it hurts so much he has to make Steven stop? Steven wouldn’t want him anymore.

But then the frantic pace fades again, Steven nuzzling his neck, fingers inside gently stretching him, brushing past that magic spot that has his teeth clenching.

“Shhh…” Steven whispers even though Christian didn’t realize he’d been making any noise.

Steven’s free hand pets his face, brushing away strands of hair caught in the sweat on his brow. Then the fingers are slipping out. Christian doesn’t understand what’s happening as he’s cradled to Steven’s body but then he finds himself lying on top of the older man.

Hands on Steven’s pale chest, Christian pushes himself up so that he can see Steven’s face. He can feel Steven’s hand brushing against his ass, but he then realizes that Steve’s hand is fisting his cock.

“You’re in control,” Steven whispers harshly, control fraying around the edges. “Go as slow as you need.”

It takes a second for Christian to understand what Steven is talking about, to realize that Steven wants him to sit on Steven’s cock, impaling himself. He doesn’t know whether that’s a good or bad idea, but he recognizes the kindness in Steven’s gesture.

Raising his hips, he feels Steven’s fingers at his entrance and then Steven’s larger, blunter cock. But Steven doesn’t press it in, simply holds it in place until Christian presses back slowly. His mouth falls open as he’s breached, sitting down slowly, slowly, slowly, until he has to stop to breathe. He can feel his heartbeat through his entire spine.

He shifts and moans, clenching his thighs around Steven’s hips. It’s not til he hears Steven moan in response that he realizes his eyes were closed. When he opens them, it’s to see Steven beneath him, so affected that it takes Christian’s shallow breath away. Steven’s chest is flushed, creeping up into his neck, and Steven’s mouth is open. He’s panting as much as Christian is.

“Move,” Steven says, his voice a harsh whisper.

Christian’s not entirely sure how but Steven’s hands are now on his hips, guiding him but not forcing him to move forward, and then back. He repositions, now getting his feet underneath him so that he’s squatting.

Steven bites his lip as Christian moves, Christian moaning and groaning at the sensations. Unlike with his fingers, he feels full and the drag of friction as he moves makes his fingers clench in the muscles of Steven’s chest.

Christian cries out to the rafters as he sits back down, his ass now flush in the cradle of Steven’s hips. It seems no matter which way he moves Steven’s cock is pressing on that magical spot, the one that has sparks flaring to life in his eyes as he looks down at his lover.

He’s sweating, his hair falling in his face. He tries to rebalance, getting one hand off of Steven’s chest to tuck the loose strands behind his ears, but he practically falls off then, and that makes both of them cry out.

His whole body is vibrating and he would swear he hears the buzzing of insects in the room. He moves faster, chasing that spark, wanting it to catch into a flame and consume him. He can feel Steven’s fingers clenching hard into the bones of his hips, but the pain seems far away.

Then Steven lets go of his right hip, that hand then grips his cock, pulling it as Christian continues to rock harder and harder. It’s like Steven is pulling his orgasm out of him, fanning that flame, until suddenly he’s trembling, twitching as he cums, driving himself back on Steven’s dick as he draws out the sensations.

He’s still jerking in the last aftershocks, when suddenly the mattress is underneath his back, Steven’s body over him and around him,   
sheltering him, even as Steven drives deeper into his body, pushing him deeper in the mattress. Christian grabs a tight hold on Steven’s biceps and throws his head back, pain and overwhelming pleasure warring inside him when all he wants to do is let Steven have him.

Steven’s lips are on his collarbone, humid breath and sweat and Steven’s short hair in ringlets brushing his chin when Steven starts to jerk, pushing inside hard and harder until Christian really feels impaled.

They’re both exhausted, Christian can hear Steven’s panting in the sudden quiet, but then Steven is placing small wet kisses on his jawline.   
It catches Christian by surprise when Steven pulls out. It feels like pulling off a scab, leaving Christian feeling empty and wet and rubbed raw in many ways. He finally had sex. Now what?

Steven falls to the mattress on his back, still breathing hard, but his right arm scrabbles at Christian, pulling at Christian’s arm until Christian moves closer and then turns over, eventually figuring out that Steven wants him to lie against Steven’s side. It’s hot there, but comfortable and Christian throws an arm across Steven’s torso that makes Steven whuff at the impact.

Christian has never actually been a concubine, not really, and he’s still in a foreign kingdom, but he thinks that he could get used to it. Real used to it, he thinks as he drifts off to sleep.

***

The next morning, Christian wakes at the sound of a knock on the heavy wooden door, just before he hears the squeak of the door opening and leather boots walking on the stone floor.

“Your majesty?” a male servant whispers hesitantly at the edge of the curtain.

“Open the shutters,” Steven orders from the bed.

There is the sound of boots moving across the room as Steven turns toward Christian, body crushing him into the mattress as lips crush down on his own. Christian responds immediately, his arms wrapping around Steven’s waist to pull him closer even.

All too soon, Steven is pull back though, smiling down at him with that smug expression in blue eyes. “Stay in bed,” he whispers in that deep roughened voice. “I’ll have them bring in breakfast and be back to have lunch with you.”

Christian nods, knowing that he needs a break before he attempts to be with Steven in public again. He needs to make certain that he can handle the politics of a kingdom’s noblemen. He wishes that Steven could stay with him all day, that they could simply relax in bed and take another ride on the beautiful horses, but he knows that Steven has responsibilities.

Surging up, Christian claims one more quick kiss, a kiss that Steven slows and deepens, hands cradling Christian’s cheeks for just a moment. Then Steven is getting up.

Christian watches Steven’s shadow from behind the curtains. He hears the water and scratches his own belly, sweat and cum dried there. Later, he’d like to wash up a little himself. But he continues lying on the mattress, one hand behind his head until the door opens again and the room goes quiet.

Turning over on his stomach to relieve the slight twinge of the skin on his back, Christian is practically asleep when the door opens again. Expecting the morning meal, he doesn’t move from his comfortable place.

But then a heavy hand lands on the back of his neck. Before Christian can even cry out, he’s being dragged up by his neck. He sees first two of the castle’s guards, but it’s when he twists to get away that he finally sees who’s holding him. Lord Morgan.

“H…” Christian starts but Lord Morgan shakes him and then the two other guards are grabbing at his limbs, tying a cloth gag around the back of his head.

The whole thing happens so fast, Lord Morgan dragging him out of the room despite his resistance. It’s not until they’re already down the hall that Christian thinks to try to scream despite the gag.

Lord Morgan slows at the resistance, shaking Christian again like a bad puppy. Dark eyes look down at him with menace and self-righteousness. “You’re going to be useful despite everything,” the lord says and it sounds like a threat.

Then he turns towards the guards. “Wait until he’s out of the castle before telling King Steven that rebels have been spotted outside the castle. We’ll wait for the king to discover for himself that his precious whore is gone.”

Lord Morgan looks down at him again, apparently not done gloating. “King Steven will have to acknowledge that he needs me then. Hutton is too soft to control an uprising, or find a captured concubine.”

The guards nod and then turn around to go down the stairs. Seeing his chance, Christian knees Lord Morgan in the balls as hard as he possibly can, and he doesn’t waste a second to twist out of the larger man’s weakening grip to take off sprinting down the hallway towards King Steven’s study, pulling off the gag from his head.

***

King Steven is almost giddy in his office after the previous night. He’s riding the giddiness of a night well spent, and a prize earned instead of captured. But he feels more than that, he feels satisfied, a feeling he hasn’t often had since his father’s death. He feels confident. He’s going to run this kingdom as he sees fit because he is king.

And he’s proud to have Timothy Hutton beside him in his new endeavors, the older man sitting at a nearby desk.

“It seems as if you had a good night, your majesty,” the earl of Ithaca starts teasingly. “Plenty of rest?”

Steven snorts in answer, smiling down at his paperwork. But Timothy isn’t finished.

“Or perhaps a new bed partner,” the earl continues as if he hasn’t heard the gossip like most of the nosy nobles currently at court. “Perhaps one that will be around for a while,” Timothy continues even as his quill pen continues to scratch the paper he’s writing on.

Steven laughs out loud at that remark. He wants Christian to stay around quite a while, he thinks, but he may need to keep the youth away from other nobles for a while.

Steven has put down his own quill pen and is about to answer the earl, when the door to the study suddenly bursts open, and Christian is standing there looking frantic with his hair a mess. And he’s completely nude.

“Christian!” Steven cries out in displeasure as he stands up hastily.

But the boy is rushing over to the other side of the desk already, leaning heavily on his wooden frame. “Steven…” the youth starts and then he takes a deep breath and tries to sound more respectful. “King…Steven, I…”

Then Lord Morgan is rushing into the room bellowing at Christian who immediately turns around. But the lord comes to a stop in the entranceway. “Your majesty…”

“What is the meaning of this?!” Steven cries out.

He can see Christian wince at the disapproval in his voice, but he needs answers. Surely Christian has more sense of propriety than this.

“He kidnapped me,” Christian starts at the same time that Lord Morgan says, “There are rebels on the grounds outside the castle.”

Steven is stunned at both answers and not understanding how either of them led to this scene. “Christian, explain yourself,” he finally decides.

Christian swallows hard and straightens, his hands coming to cover his genitals, but right now Steven is now worried about the youth’s nakedness.

“I was asleep in your bed and then Lord Morgan and two guards came in. They gagged me and dragged me out, but I got away. And I came straight to your majesty,” Christian bows his head at the last sentence and Steven can see the youth’s plead for trust.

But...“What about you, Lord Morgan,” Steven queries.

“Your majesty,” Lord Morgan starts with an extravagant bow. “I heard from these two guards that there were rebels from the clans spotted outside the castle walls. I came to your majesty’s bedroom to alert you. I thought you might be sleeping late this morning…” Lord Morgan trails off there.

“I found your concubine,” Lord Morgan continues in a harsher voice as he glares at the youth who courageously glares back. “He was writing a letter to the rebels, your majesty. I just had time to read the first few lines before the whelp threw the paper in the fire.”

The room goes quiet then, both parties having said their peace. Steven doesn’t know what to think. Neither story can be corroborated. It is entirely up to him to decide who is more trustworthy unless he wants to torture them both.

Lord Morgan has been his advisor since his father’s death. He is certainly loyal to the kingdom, though he is also loyal to his own ambitions. Christian on the other hand is a foreigner who freely admits that he was loyal to his own people and King David.

Steven looks up into Christian’s face that is turned away from him. But it doesn’t hide the wretched look on the youth’s pretty features.   
Christian is indeed loyal. Steven can’t imagine the boy having sex with someone to whom he had not given his loyalty wholeheartedly. No, Christian gave him a gift that Christian had been taught to hold in high regard, and now Christian needs his trust in return.

His expression hardening, Steven turns to the guards that had been in the study with him to begin with. “Guards, take the Lord and these two guards to the Tower, where they will be questioned further regarding their treasonous plot.”

There’s shock on all the faces on the room, but Steven focuses on Christian as the youth looks up at him with shock and something else, something happy and giddy and earth-shattering. Something like love.

The two guards have had their swords and other weaponry removed when one man calls out before he can be led away. “I confess,” the man cries, the fear of being tortured etched on his face. “I confess we tried to kidnap your majesty’s concubine. There are no rebels near the castle.”

Lord Morgan growls and makes a move toward the confessing guard before he’s restrained again. But Steven simply bows his head as all three men are removed from the room.

Before he can lift his head again, Timothy is already across the room, wrapping up Christian’s nude body with his black riding cloak.   
Fatherly, Timothy rubs Christian’s arms for a moment, before stepping over to the door. He gives Steven a nod before he leaves, closing the   
door behind him.

As soon as Timothy is gone, Steven is around the desk, wrapping Christian up in his arms. Christian is obviously shaken and Steven can understand why. But at the same time the fact that Christian ran immediately to him is like a warm fire in his chest.

He squeezes Christian tight and is rewarded with the weight of Christian’s head on his shoulder. At this moment, the proof of the trust between them is more significant than either of them confessing their love.


End file.
